The Rose
by DLazyBat
Summary: A young woman at the end of her rope. Sweet salvation found in the form of a knife's harsh blade. What does the Lord of the Underworld think when some one goes to claim thier own life? Does he celebrate? Or does he feel as sad as those they leave behind?


Hey there people! I finally got a chance to post a story here. This is my first one so I would like some honest feed back on it. 

I got the idea for this story while reading through some different Greek Mythology stories on here and was stuck with the thought

what does the Lord of the Underworld think when some one goes to take there own life? Here's what I came up with. I hope you 

enjoy it.

_Thoughts_

R&R

_Tonight I'm going to do it. Then all this will be over. No more worries, no more cares. _

I stare blankly at my eyes as they are reflected by the cool steel freedom that rests in my 

hands. The sound of my Mom's footsteps coming down the hall causes me to jump. My 

mind reeling I quickly grab the handkerchief sitting on the nightstand. Wrapping the cloth 

securely around the blade, I jam it into my pocket just as the door opens. 

"Honey, it's time for dinner," my Mom says, a tired smile gracing her features.

"Ok I'll be right out," I reply trying to keep my voice light. 

She just nods as she closes my door. I listen carefully to her steps to be sure that she's 

gone. Once I hear her socked feet hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor I reach into my 

pocket. I take the knife out and walk over to my dresser. Getting down on my hands and 

knees I place the knife behind the left front leg of it. Standing I head towards my 

bedroom door. While turning the knob I look back over at the dresser making sure that 

the red hankie and what it contains can't be seen. 

"How's school been going, Sweetie?" 

"Fine." 

Keeping my face neutral I look up from my plate to meet my Mom's blood shot eyes.

Her hair is sticking out in all directions having escaped the ponytail that she had fixed in 

an attempt to get it out of her face. She keeps saying she's going to go and get it cut. But 

another thing always pops up and she never gets it done. Our conversation is cut short as 

the front door opens and Dad walks in. He looks if possible even more haggard than 

Mom. Setting down his lunch box on the counter he walks over to the table and plops 

down in his usual chair at the head. While he's shoveling food into his mouth I notice that 

his eyes are only half open. _Too many more of these overtime shifts and he's going to be _

_sleeping in his food instead of eating it._

"So how was your day, Hon?" he asks me alternating between bites of chicken fried steak 

and mashed potatoes.

" It was good. I had a math test and got an ok grade on my history paper." I say this 

while keeping the same neutral expression I'd used with Mom.

I'm a terrible liar. I always smile when I do it. Not anymore. I've told this one 

so often it feels true. 

"Well that's good. How do you think you did on your math test?" his bright blue eyes 

meeting my face as I answer. 

"Fine, one or two questions I'm not too sure on, but other than that I think I did good." I 

tell the truth on that one.

_Math has always been one of my stronger subjects._ Dad gives me a light nod and goes 

back to tearing into what's left of his steak. _I hate lying to them what I hate more is the _

_fact that they don't even notice when I do it anymore._ The rest of dinner goes by with the 

sounds of quiet chewing and swallowing. After dinner I head back to my room. My eyes 

instantly go to the dresser. _Not now, I can't take the chance of them coming in and _

_stopping me. I've waited this long, I can wait a few hours more. _Grabbing my backpack 

from where I'd tossed it when I got home that afternoon, I head toward the bed and get 

started on my homework. Half way through my grammar it starts. The raised voices from 

the kitchen are muffled by the door and my Josh Groban cd. Despite this I can still make 

out some of what's being said. 

"Why do you keep spending like this?" my Mom's tearful voice questions. 

" It's my money, I can do whatever I want with it! Besides I'm not the only one in this 

house that keeps on spending!" Dad roars back. 

" I spend it on groceries. What did you spend all yours on, huh?" 

"That's none of your business. " 

" O, so the fact that you're sinking us further in the hole to support your drinking is none 

of my business? I've seen how many checks you've written to the gas station for booze."

" I bought a six pack and went over to John's place. That's the last time I've even seen 

the darn check book." Dad's exasperated voice replies. 

" And how many times before that?" 

Dad remains silent for a while. No doubt wearing that disgusted expression I've seen 

more and more often lately. His face turns red and gets all scrunched up so you can only 

see a sliver of his eyes. 

" You're drunk right now aren't you? Aren't you?" Mom's voice goes up an octave as 

she repeats the question. 

" No." 

I know he's lying. I could smell the booze on him from my end of the table during dinner. 

" If you don't stop drinking you're going to get fired! Then how are we supposed to pay 

the bills? And God forbid you lose the insurance. Those medications cost $500 per bottle 

each. We'd never be able to afford to pay for them on our own. Do you even care about 

that? 

"Of course I do damn it! I'm doing the best I can." 

Dad's voice is starting to crack. I don't have to go out there to know that tears are going 

down both my parents' faces. _That reminds me, I haven't taken my other pill yet tonight. _

_I'll take it later, just so they don't notice anything._ My Dad's voice brakes through my 

thoughts as their argument starts up againReaching over I turn my cd up until my 

parent's voices became nothing more then the bass beats to the velvety voice coming 

through the speakers. _Tonight will be the last time that they have that argument. They'll _

_never have to worry about money again._ I finish up grammar and move on to history. 

After the first paragraph I stop. _Why am I bothering with this? History isn't going to _

_matter after tonight._ I slam the book shut and tuck it back in my bag. I reach over and 

turn down the cd I'd had on repeat for the past hour and a half. Not hearing my parents I 

slowly open the door and listen again, still nothing. Sticking my head out the door I hear 

the TV in the family room going. _Maybe I should do it now. But wait they'll come in and _

_say goodnight here soon. I can't have them saving me if they walk in before I'm finished. _

_I'll go and spend one last evening with them and do it after they go to bed._

Sighing I close the door behind me and go out to the living room. As I walk through the 

kitchen I stop at the counter and grab one of the orange bottles sitting there. Walking over 

to get a glass I start reading the long list of side effects that they have printed on the label. 

The list runs from the usual headache clear down to hallucinations. _I wonder how many _

_people even experience these things. _I pop the pill in my mouth and gulp down the glass 

of water. A rerun of CSI is flashing across the screen as I sit down on the flower printed 

couch. Mom occupies one end while Dad lounges in the recliner in the corner. Both 

acting as if nothing's wrong and that the "discussion" they'd had never existed. _After _

_tonight they'll be able to stop this charade. _I turn my attention from watching them to the 

TV. Together we watch as for the 3rd time Grisom and crew nail the bad guy for the same 

reasons that they all seem to commit murder. Dad's snore from the corner blocks out 

what Greg said about the gang's trace evidence at the end of the second rerun of the 

night. Mom retired somewhere between his soft snores and the freight train versions. I 

wrinkle my nose as the third rerun of the night starts to play. _At least it's something to do _

_while waiting to be sure Mom's out for the night._

I turn the TV off as the credits on number three start to roll and tip toe to my parent's 

room. By the looks of it Mom hasn't moved since the last time I looked in. Allowing a 

smile to cross my face I head down the hall to my room. Quietly closing the door behind 

me I head over to the dresser and drop to my knees. Reaching under it I grab hold of the 

red package that has haunted my thoughts throughout the evening. Unwrapping the knife 

I stare mesmerized at the blade as it reflects the moonlight streaming through the window 

above my bed. I gingerly place the tip against the throbbing blue line of my wrist, take a 

deep breath, and prepare to pull it across paper skin. 

"You're truly going to go through with this?" a deep mournful voice interrupts. 

I let out a crying gasp as I whirl around in a startled jump towards the direction of the 

speaker. I smother another scream making its way up my throat as my eyes land on 

the person standing in the opposite corner of the room. A tall, dark clad man stands there 

calmly leaning against the wall staring at where I am kneeling on the floor. 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" I say in a high-pitched squeak as my mind 

reels as to how this man got in here without my notice. Dark eyes meet my blue ones as 

his brow furls in a look between disappointment and pity. It's then that I notice his eyes 

have no whites as I feel fear turn me into a statue.

"You know who I am, young one. You've been thinking of me far to often for you not to 

know me. And knowing who I am will surely give you the knowledge as to why I am 

here," his eyes never leaving my face as he speaks. 

His youthful face is a stark contrast to the millennia of sorrows written on it in soft 

lines around his mouth and eyes. I feel the blood that was remaining in my face drain 

away as the words form his name in my head. _Why is he here? Have I already done it? _

_Am I already dead?_ As these thoughts flash through my mind I glance down at my wrist. 

There's no blood, no gaping wound where the knife 

had carved its path. All that's there is the knife's blade lightly resting against the 

smooth skin. 

"No, you're not dead." Death said, with a small upturning of the corner of his mouth at 

my confused expression. 

" Than why are you here if I'm not dead?"

"I appear to all those thinking of claiming their own lives." His face returns to its sad 

countenance at my upset tone as he answers. 

" Why?" 

"Because they are the ones controlling their deaths at the time there is no reason for me to 

stay away. Now will you answer a question of mine?" 

"I suppose." I answer, forcing myself to sound calm.

" Instead of screaming and begging like so many others do when I appear you merely sat 

there and accepted my presence. So I wonder why such a fearless young woman would 

take a coward's way out of life." 

His question surprised me. Then the anger hit. _How dare he think I'm a coward! _

_Am I not doing this for a good reason? Who is he to judge whether I'm being _

_cowardly or not?_

"I'm not being a coward!" my venomous tone making my opinion known. 

" Then why are you doing this?" his calm looks and the way his eyes watch my every 

move makes me so mad I think I'm going to explode. 

" Because it's for the best." 

His arms come up from behind his back and fold neatly across his chest as he waits for 

me to continue. 

" Because I'm tired of hearing them argue! Of taking medication after medication, just 

because the doctors can't admit that they don't know what's wrong. Of the doctors giving 

them new scares every time they tell them their latest theory. I'm tired of it all." Tears 

flow down my cheeks as I ramble. "Of course you wouldn't get any of this. You don't 

have any idea what it's like to love someone so much that you would give 

anything to see them happy." 

At this Death's eyes soften as he crosses the room to kneel in front of me. 

"Are you going to go through with this?" he whispers as his eyes search my face. 

Tears stream down my cheeks as I nod. 

" Then why haven't you done it yet?" 

I open my mouth to answer as he places one red-gloved finger on my lips to silence me.

" If you were truly going to do this you would have done it already. You 

wouldn't have taken the time to try and justify your reasons, least of all to me." 

Realization slowly dawns on me as a sob that I can't keep back rips free 

from my throat. Soon I'm enveloped in a gentle hug as long fingers gently take the 

knife from my trembling hand. 

" I'll see you again, young one. For now go and enjoy life while you have her. I will 

return when your time has come." 

"When will that be?" I mumble into his tunic. A small chuckle parts his lips. 

"You'll know. Because then and only then will you be truly ready to say goodbye." 

I close my eyes as I listen to the rumble that emanates from his chest as he says those 

words. When I open them again I'm laying on the couch in our living room, the recliner 

in the corner abandoned. Dad must have woke up and headed to bed. _But how did I get _

_here? Wasn't I in my room?_ Recalling what I had read on the pill bottle, I put my hand to 

my head._ Was that all a big hallucination? _Getting up off the couch I head down the hall 

as fast as I can without making too much noise. I throw the door open and dive to the 

floor next to the dresser. Reaching under it to grab the knife hidden there I feel a small 

prick on my finger. Pulling out the hankie I let out a gasp. For there wrapped in my 

hankie isn't the knife I put there. But a beautiful black rose. 

Well there it is! I really enjoyed writing this and pray you enjoyed reading it. I'm going to try and

write some more here soon, but will more than likely have to wait for life to calm down again before I can.

Please let me know what I did wrong, what I did right, and some things you liked or didn't like about the story.

Thanks! 


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